Thus was the mandatory Pon Farr drabble written. Enjoy.

Hands

"Mr. Spock, would you mind transferring these files to engineering?"

I handed off the PADD with the latest updates to my First Officer/Sort of Boyfriend/Not-so-secret object of my affection, fingers brushing against his briefly. I felt a kind of buzz of energy, like he had been building up static electricity, and it startled me.

Spock jerked back from the contact as if it had burned him, nearly dropping the PADD in his haste to get away from me. I stepped back to give him some space, but he made no comment or gave any indication that he had reacted at all to my touch.

Had it been involuntary then? Interesting.

"Knight to E7."

I set my white knight up a level, intercepting an attack from Spock's pawn. It was a trap, unfortunately, and his rook cornered my queen between his bishop and a pawn. I cursed, trying to save my King, but he had me. I fell back in my chair, flicking my King onto his side in defeat.

"You're really getting better, Spock. At this rate you'll even out the score in...127 games?"

He cocked an eyebrow, a slight glimmer of victory in his eyes. God I loved that glimmer.

"I believe I will be eternally one step behind you Jim," he replied, but had already begun resetting the pieces for another game. I liked this cocky spock, and set about helping to rearrange the set.

We reached for the fallen white King at the same time, fingers crashing together. His eyes flashed up to mine, and I saw something unsettling in their dark depths.

Uncertainty, embarrassment, surprise...and the unmistakable dilated pupils of desire.

He removed his hand, regaining his composure with ease, but the memory of Spock's eyes stayed with me.

"I thought you said the natives were friendly!"

I skidded around a rocky outcropping, wood and crude bronze spears clattering off the canyon around us. Just because they were primitive didn't mean they couldn't kill you just as dead as a highly advanced weapon.

"Apparently I made a slight error in my earlier assessment," Spock replied, racing along at my side with no apparent concern for the furious shrieking indigenous horde hot on our heels. I refrained from pointing out that he was a master of understatement and vaulted a boulder; I would have fallen if not for his lightning quick arm that shot out, catching my collar and practically throwing me back to my feet.

His eyes widened in alarm as he noticed the dropping off of the canyon in front of us, and I gauged the distance of the chasm in front of us with significantly less dread. He stared at me with the Vulcan impression of terror.

"Jim, you will not make it," he informed me, and I estimated a leap of 8-10 feet.

"We'll make it," I assured him, altering course to head straight for it. His state of alarm deepened, and he gripped my arm as we ran.

"Jim, you cannot jump a sufficient distance to carry you over the chasm-"

"JUMP!"

I hurtled through the air, Spock's shadow sailing past to land safely on the side, but my Vulcan was very rarely wrong, and I fell just short of the cliff, sliding and scraping my way to a shaky halt on a ledge about five feet from the top.

"Jim!" I looked up to see Spock leaning over the edge, hand outstretched. I clasped it, scrabbling for a hold as we heaved together, and he finally dragged me over the rim and behind a rock formation to take cover from the rain of spears from the locals.

I gasped raggedly in pain when he knelt to inspect my road rash, and when he looked up his eyes flashed furiously.

"I told you you could not make it," he snapped, and I smiled weakly.

"I knew you'd catch me," I teased, taking his hand to move it away from my leg, and he stiffened, already dark eyes catching mine with an unsettling fire. Didn't I read somewhere that extreme stress turns Vulcans on?

He drew his hand away, and I decided that there was definitely some sort of connection between hands and arousal in Vulcans.

And I began to form a plan.

I called it, "Get Spock to sleep with me Plan F." I chose that name because, well...plans A through E had already failed. A had consisted of mostly just trying to sweet talk him into bed; he hadn't batted so much as an eyelash. Plan B went a more traditional route with a date, flashy show, real romantic and all the jazz-Spock had seemed offended by my treating him like a woman and had not spoken to me for several days afterwards.

Plan C involved a lot of factual arguments and reasons that he should sleep with me. Logically, he should have been near caving in to the stunning amounts of my charm. In fact, Plan C was still in effect and I had to believe I was wearing him down.

Plan D...well, let's just say that Vulcans really don't appreciate finding their significant other lying naked in their quarters after misusing the Captain Override Codes. I was still in quite a bit of trouble for that fiasco, and Plan E-make-up sex-was proving to be a giant disappointment.

Of course, I understood that sex was a really big deal for Vulcans and not to be taken lightly-but I really was putting a lot of effort into the whole monogamy thing and it was slowly killing me.

Thus, the letter had moved on to F-figure out what the deal was with Spock's hands and potentially score some bedding points in the process.

"Mr. Spock, please report to the Captain's quarters at 1800 this evening to have your ass thoroughly whooped in Chess," I called through the conn, and there was only silence in reply. I frowned-he normally at least made some sort of snide comment about how he was currently having a winning streak, or pointed out that I was misusing a Captain's order, or perhaps even that 'whoop' was being improperly used in my sentence.

When none of those things occurred, I began to get a bit suspicious. I conned him twice more and when neither one was met with reply, I dropped everything and forged my way across D deck to the First Officer's Quarters.

"Spock, are you here?" I inquired at the door, pressing the chime for entry. No reply. I stepped up to the computer console on the wall, pressing my access code in quickly.

"Computer, search Enterprise for Science Officer Spock," I ordered, and after a brief instant the Computer replied, "Science Officer Spock is in his quarters."

Something was definitely up. I moved back to the door and chimed once more to be certain before tapping in the Captain's Override code. The door whooshed open and I stepped inside the veritable oven of the Vulcan's quarters. Inside was dark, and the scent of burning candles wafted over me.

"Spock?" I ventured, moving further in, and his voice spoke up suddenly from the depths of his cabin.

"Captain. You should not be here."

I turned to follow the sound and found him sitting in the corner on the floor, legs crossed, eyes closed and hands upturned on his knees. He was meditating.

"Is everything alright, Spock?" I asked, and he drew a tight breath.

"It is not. But I must deal with it alone." his tone was clipped, sharp and much more hostile than I had ever heard it before, and I frowned.

"There's nothing I can do for you?" I urged, and his hands tightened where they rested on his knees.

"...I would ask that, if no other missions require our presence, we set a course for New Vulcan," he said slowly, as if the words were difficult to form, and I nodded.

"Of course, Spock. Anything you need," I promised, and I meant it. Surely he knew I would do anything for him. He drew another short, tight breath, eyes never opening.

"Thank you, Captain."

I nodded, but did not take my leave. Spock was having some sort of nervous breakdown, or maybe he was finally feeling the effects of the past few years of stress for what they really were. Perhaps he was rethinking their relationship as it stood.

"Spock-"

"Captain," he interrupted rudely, "I really am in no condition to have any sort of conversation with you at this time." His voice came out almost pained, and I threw logic out the window and knelt in front of him.

"Spock, please, just let me help-"

"I cannot speak of it!" he cried suddenly, eyes snapping open as he lurched back from my touch, and we both froze that way as he begged me with his eyes to allow his silence. I could not comply.

"I can't help you if you won't tell me what's going on," I murmured, sidling closer like you would to a frightened and wounded animal. He actually flinched when I brushed my hand against his arm, but when his eyes flashed up to mine they were startlingly intense. His hand snapped up to catch my wrist, and we stayed that way for a moment before his dark eyes slid down to my fingers that stretched inches from him. I was reminded of a panther observing a particularly tasty bit of prey, and that made me a little bit uncomfortable and a lot turned on.

His other hand came up to touch my palm with butterfly fingertips, spreading my fingers so they lay directly against his pale, long ones. My skin buzzed pleasantly, and he took his index and middle fingers and stroked down the insides of my adjacent digits. The buzz became a burn, still pleasant but creating interesting effects on my heartbeat. I swallowed, inhaling a little too loudly, and those eyes glanced at me quickly again.

"Spock," I murmured, and he suddenly clutched my hand in a deathgrip and yanked me towards him, his other arm winding around me tightly. I admit I gasped sharply, and when I ended up straddling his lap with his hand on my hip and his lips at my throat I reeled in startled excitement.

"Jim," he mimicked my low tone, and his murmur in my ear shot straight to my arousal. I tangled a hand in his hair and kissed him, a culmination of every tiny peck and embrace he had granted me prior. He tilted his head and I delighted in the slight parting of his lips, allowing me entry to explore his mouth. He was hot to the touch, which seemed unusual, and his tongue felt rough as it sparred with mine.

I pulled at his shirt and he broke our connected lips and fingers, allowing me to strip it over his head. His pale skin seemed more green hued than usual, flushed perhaps, and I yelped in surprise as he pitched forward abruptly, all but tackling me to the floor.

"Jim...be one with me," he practically growled to me, and if he had been anyone else I might have been afraid of the pools of black his eyes had become. But the pent-up tension between us urged me onward and I wound my arms around his neck.

"Of course."

He tore the fabric from my body as if it were tissue paper, tossing it aside and pulling me to him, as if he were desperate to feel the touch of skin. We kissed, touched, tasted, feeling every part of one another which had never been explored. He took me-I took him. It did not matter who was inside the other; it was an act of trust as we set aside our pride and gave ourselves entirely unto the other. It was an equalizing experience, tinted with the red and green of blood and the darkness of a startlingly primal nature which I had never seen in Spock.

It was exhilarating, satisfying, and a little bit frightening. He hardly spoke; there were no words in the place in which he resided, and when the madness had finally subsided we lay in a heap of sweat and breath, tangled amongst the sheets of his bed where we had moved sometime during our passions.

"Captain..." he murmured after a long while of stillness, and I turned slowly, painfully to face him. The Vulcan race sported near herculean stamina that, even with my impressive endurance, had left what might be some embarrassing bruises.

"Yes Spock?" I replied, brushing a finger down the curve of his ear. He shivered gently at the touch, dark eyes avoiding mine. Whatever insanity had gripped him, it seemed to have passed, and his cheeks were slightly dark with embarrassment.

"I must sincerely apologize for my conduct in this matter-I...am not myself," he said carefully, withdrawing slightly from my touch, and I frowned curiously.

"I can see that, Mr. Spock," I glanced pointedly down at the purpling marks on my hips and the scratches on my shoulders, and his ears colored vividly.

"I am sorry, Jim," he moved to get out of bed, and I caught his arm, urging him back down beside me.

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that," I assured, and he ran assessing fingers over the more vibrant of my wounds. "I just meant you were more...uninhibited than usual."

"Indeed," he replied, raising an eyebrow. "That would be an understatement of my current status."

"And what is that current status, exactly?" I asked, and he actually settled further into the blankets, his fingers still tracing over my skin.

"It is...to do with Biology sir."

"Biology? What kind of Biology?"

"...Vulcan Biology."

I frowned at his evasiveness, settling to be eye to eye with my Vulcan. He seemed supremely embarrassed both with his actions and whatever this strange Vulcan biological issue was.

"Biology...you mean..." I contemplated his almost animal conquering of his Captain and raised my eyebrows in a Spockian gesture of realization. "Reproduction?"

He stiffened, but he had nothing to hide from me at this point except what his Vulcan philosophies dictated he refrain, but I saw him contemplating how much he should tell me.

"It...is called Pon Farr," he began to explain the Vulcan's need, every seven years, to return home to Vulcan to mate. However since the destruction of their homeplanet, the practice had changed out of necessity.

"My betrothed was killed in the destruction of Vulcan. I...did not know exactly what it was I would do when this time came...Thank you...for coming to my aid." His words stumbled a bit, which I found surprising, and he almost nestled closer in his insecurity. I wound my arms around him, pulling him close. He hesitated for a moment before his long arms came up to wrap around my back, resting between my shoulder blades, and he rested his face against my neck. It was a moment of weakness-he was trusting me with his nature, his body, his heart. I rested my cheek against his forehead, promising silently that I would never abuse that right.

"If you'll have me, I'll come to your aid every Pan...For...um, Pun Fire..."

"Pon Farr," he corrected, and I nodded, nuzzling him affectionately.

"Right. Pon Farr. And any other time you need me," I added as a soft afterthought, and he lifted his eyes to me. He seemed mildly befuddled by this comment.

"You would come at any call I would give?" he asked, and I looked into his thoughtful eyes and kissed the tip of his nose. This action seemed to startle him, and I chuckled.

"Of course."

"Why?"

I sighed, shaking my head and threading our fingers together.

"You'll understand when we're older."

Hope you like my lame little pseudo smutlets.

I want to live where soul meets body

And let the sun wrap its arms around me

And bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing

And feel, feel what its like to be new